


Attack on Titan: A Blacksmith's Tale

by crod42



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychic Abilities, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23978665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crod42/pseuds/crod42
Summary: When Wall Maria falls to the titans, a young blacksmith from Wall Sina enlists in the 104th Training Corps, determined to make a difference for the survival of humanity. But he didn't expect to catch the interest of a cold blond girl named Annie, who carries a terrible secret. It's a good thing he holds his own power to even the odds. Canon compliant until certain points.Rated T for violence and gore (par for the course of Attack on Titan), language, sexual content, and implied nudity. Should I need to bump my rating up to M, let me know and I will.Re-posted from Fanfiction.net.
Relationships: Annie Leonhart/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. The Blacksmith of Yarckel

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Hello, everyone. I didn't think I would come to Archive of Our Own, but I decided to see if I can grow my audience with this website via my most popular story from Fanfiction.net. I hope you all enjoy reading this story, and I look forward to your reactions. With that out of the way, let's dive in.

#  [Attack on Titan: A Blacksmith's Tale](https://www.deviantart.com/dreamangel-ren/art/COMMISSION-AoT-A-Blacksmith-s-Tale-746384911)

## Chapter 1: The Blacksmith of Yarckel

~~_"Hello. My name is Dil—"_~~ "No." ~~_"Hey, anybody who happens to be reading my—"_~~ "That's just stupid." ~~_"To whom it may concern, if you are reading this, then…"_~~

Letting out an annoyed sigh, the thirteen-year old placed the pen down. Starting his first journal entry was much harder than he thought. The beginning was the most important part of anything, and already, he was screwing that up. At least the carriage wasn't going over bumps.

"Regretting your decision, kid?" the driver asked as they passed Wall Sina towards Wall Rose.

"No," he answered. "Just trying to figure out how to start this journal."

"With the frustration I'm hearing, sounds more like you're writing an essay."

He simply shrugged. "Well, it's more like an autobiography… just in case something happens."

The carriage driver glanced backwards at him. "How old are you, twelve?"

"Thirteen."

He sighed. "Kids writing memoirs. Definitely a screwed-up world we live in." He paused for a moment as he mulled over the kid's plight. "If you're looking for some advice, I've got some for you."

"…I'm listening," the boy replied after some hesitation.

"Save the introduction for later. Start off with explaining what led you to enlisting."

_That sounds logical,_ he had to admit inwardly. "Thanks, sir."

"Hey, your parents paid me a hefty sum. Least I could do."

"Fair enough." Taking a deep breath, the boy began writing, feeling a little more confident this time.

_"It all started in the year 845. It was a day like any other in the Interior. Actually no, it wasn't. It started off with something interesting. ~~I mean, not to say that—."~~_

_This is going to take while._ The boy thought as he grimly crumpled up the piece of paper and pocketed it.

#### (845; Yarckel District)

Living in an inner city was considered by many to be a dream come true. In the districts of Wall Maria and Rose, making ends meet was a difficult task, but within Wall Sina's districts, provided taxes didn't eat them alive, the more fortunate dwelled. From the upper class to the obscenely rich, from the hard workers to the spoiled brats, they came in all shapes and sizes. The one thing these people had in common with the rest of their country was that they could enjoy a beautiful day. While the sun beat down upon the city, there was a pleasant wind in the air, balancing things out. So, a stroll throughout the district seemed to be on the minds of Yarckel's residents.

Amidst the busy streets, a boy sat at a vacant table, reading the daily newspaper. His well-groomed, brown hair was one of the giveaways that he was of the upper class. His brown eyes were fixated on the paper, yet his ears were alert for something or someone. Normally, boys his age would either be playing in the streets, working, or sitting around at home like a prissy noble, but he was in the middle of something far more important.

His waiting was rewarded when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a particular man walking down the street who furtively glanced left and right as he went. Unlike the civilians that came by, this person wore a uniform with the emblem of a green unicorn apparent on the left side of the chest and more so on the back of the jacket. He was one of many Military Police officers, the ones that were supposed to be protecting the people and enforcing the laws, but those kinds of officers were too few in Sina. Abuse of power, black market trading, drug trafficking, and all sorts of things were what most MPs were engaged in. Anything to get far in their lives.

_Our finest scum in uniform,_ he thought with a barely-concealed sneer. _Question is: what kind of scum is he?_

The officer glanced around, checking to see if he was being watched, but the boy busied himself with the newspaper. It wouldn't do good for anyone if he got caught. While he was keeping up appearances, a thought occurred to the boy. He was in the prime position to get the information he was looking for. All he needed was the find the right one.

Unbeknownst to anyone, the eyes of the child began to emit a silver glow. While he looked at the paper, his focus was completely on the officer, who was trying to hail a carriage.

_Okay, Trey, take a deep breath, he heard in his mind. It's almost over._

_He gets on a carriage, I'll lose him,_ the boy realized. _Looks like I'll need to dig deeper._

His eyes shined brighter as he began searching. A thought attached to a memory would be the best thing he could look for. Sure enough, he began to hear words that would easily land him in jail. _Deal… can't get caught… coderoin..._

_Drug deal. Wonderful, but where's the deal taking place?_

The boy began to feel a headache come onto his mind about the same time as the officer felt it. He could mentally force his way in, but it would result in internal damage that couldn't be explained. Last thing he needed was to be found out due to his impatience. That being said, there was a memory linked to his thoughts, and he needed to unlock it. His eyes glowing just a bit more, he found it: an address and a time. Sealing it away in his own mind, the boy ceased his mental infiltration.

Trey massaged his head as he was hit with a migraine, but he needed to fight it off, especially since a carriage finally pulled up. Quickly, he entered it, muttering something about police business and a vague location. The carriage driver proceeded down the road, none the wiser as to his true intentions.

Once he was out of sight, the boy tossed the paper into the nearest bin and proceeded down the street. Paranoia flowed through his veins as he began to wonder if that officer had any friends that were keeping an eye out for suspicious activity, like a curious boy trying to get to his own meeting place after watching an officer take off. Logic kicked in as he realized that there's no way the MPs would make a convoluted strategy that would expose their intentions. Still, it paid to be careful when it came to those bastards.

"You look like you have a stalker on your tail," a voice stated after a few minutes, taking him out of his thoughts.

The boy halted in his tracks, facing a table with a woman sitting at it. Brushing the black hair out of the way of her face, the woman's eyes gazed at him in a way that sent him on edge.

"There's no one following me… I think," he replied hesitantly with a dry throat.

"No one's following you," she assured, gesturing for him to sit down. "What have you got for me, Dillon?"

"Officer Trey is heading straight for that warehouse that burned down a couple of years ago," Dillon explained after taking a seat. "Considering how he was checking for anyone suspicious, he's probably making his move now. But there's one more thing: whatever he's doing involves coderoin."

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you absolutely sure about that?"

"I heard him use that word, Kyler," Dillon answered. "Could be referenced to something else, but it might not be."

"We don't have any active stings involving that damn drug. Even if there were, it's not a chance I'm willing to take." Kyler stood up, nodding in approval. "Nice job, Dillon."

A wave of pride washed over him as he grinned at her. "Thanks. Can I—?"

"Go home and not get caught instead of coming to a dangerous location where you'll be put in more danger?" she interrupted with a smile. "Why, of course you can!"

The grin was replaced by a frown, but she had him there. The downside to being a temporary snitch was that he couldn't watch the arrest take place. His mom already made the MPs their enemies thanks to her job, and he would make it worse. Which was a shame, because watching them get their comeuppance would've been quite satisfying. "Yes, ma'am."

"That's Corporal to you," she corrected, ruffling his hair. "Now get out of here."

He swatted her hand away, smoothing his hair out. It had taken him a while to get his hair in the right style, and he didn't want it ruined.

As the chuckling woman headed down the street to hail a carriage, Dillon went in the opposite direction towards his home. Most of the time, he didn't have to worry about the Military Police causing him trouble, but his paranoia remained. Last thing he needed was to get arrested and face their wrath due to his actions today. That being said, he trusted Kyler to keep his identity anonymous and he was careful enough not to be seen.

Those comforting thoughts helped him relax as he went down the street. It was a beautiful day outside anyways and it seemed the people around him were taking advantage of that. The marketplace was bustling with activity, people selling all kinds of expensive jewelry. Normally, Dillon would browse and see what his options were, but he wasn't in the mood. All he wanted to do was get home.

After twenty minutes of walking, he came upon a two-story house with a sign in front that read: **Amsdale's Forge**. Technically, the forge itself was behind the building, but it was still a catchy name. A relieved smile appeared on his face as he drew closer. He couldn't wait to tell his father about what happened today.

After letting a man who carried two, sheathed daggers out, Dillon entered the store. An assortment of weapons ranging from daggers of many types, to swords, and even a mace surrounded him on the walls, though some were put in glass displays for all to see. The weapons were locked down tight to prevent any thieves from getting ideas, and even if that happened, they wouldn't get far. The signatures engraved on them made it easier to track down the morons who thought stealing from here was a good idea.

Dillon faced the only person currently in the store: a brown-haired man with a small, well-trimmed beard. His muscled frame was intimidating to most people, but the boy knew him well enough to feel less nervous around him.

"Hey, Pops," he greeted with a smile.

Matthew Amsdale was very pleased to see him as evident by the hug he gave him. "Hey, how'd it go?"

"I busted a coderoin sale," Dillon bragged. "Well… technically, Kyler's doing it as we speak, but I still helped. A lot."

His father gave him a look of suspicion. "Uh-huh. And how exactly did you uncover this fact?"

He shrugged, being coy. "Well, you know how MPs let things slip from time to time."

_"Slipped from their minds, perhaps?"_ Matthew pressed without moving his mouth to talk.

A smirk appeared on the boy's face as he responded in kind. _"You know it."_

Matthew shook his head with amusement. "Just tell me there's no chance you got caught."

"I checked for tails and made myself out to be a typical civilian reading the newspaper," he assured. "Don't worry. We're safe."

He smiled, gripping his shoulder affectionately. "I'm proud of you son."

"Thanks, Dad." Straightening out a few weapons, he asked, "Did we get any orders today?"

"Believe it or not, we got an order from the Reiss family."

Dillon froze, staring at him in shock. "They contracted us?"

"That's right," he answered, handing him a piece of paper. "A custom-made short sword with the best metal we've got along with a full tang hilt, and ancient lettering that leads from the cross guard to about halfway up the sword."

The boy let out a whistle. "Looks like we've got our hands full today. How much did they—?" If there was ever a moment that Dillon's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, this was it when he saw the bottom of the paper. _"F-Five hundred thousand!?"_

"And that was the price they suggested," Matthew added, shaking his head as he thought about that encounter. "I tried to get them to go down, but they wouldn't accept it. I don't think I need to tell you to be very careful with this one."

"I will," Dillon promised, a grin appearing on his face. "Let's get to work."

For hours, the blacksmiths began construction on the sword. They had to make sure this would be the best of the best. Trial and error was common in their business, but today, a lot more errors began appearing during the hammering process. Forging a basic sword shape should have been simple were it not for Dillon's anxiety. 500,000 was not a number to be brushed off lightly, especially when that number was connected to a Noble Family.

"Dillon, don't be nervous," Matthew had urged after the fourth screw up. "I know you want to do a good job, so just do what you've always done."

Once that pep talk had been given, they finally got the metal into the proper shape within twenty minutes.

_About time._ Dillon thought as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. "So far, so good?"

"You tell me, Dillon," Matthew replied, getting a wet towel to cool himself towel.

The boy stared at the sword for a moment, analyzing how they hammered it so far. "Yeah, we did good."

"I agree." He tossed him another damp towel. "Make sure you don't get another heat stroke."

He rolled his eyes. "Dad, that only happened twice."

"Dillon."

Wisely, Dillon conceded. "Okay, okay."

Suddenly, there a knock on the door. "Hello? Are there two, handsome men inside?"

"Only if there's a beautiful woman that wants to see them," Matthew answered in a coy tone.

Chuckling, the door opened to reveal Carolyn Amsdale in her typical brown ponytail, putting down her briefcase so she could hug her husband and kiss him. "Hello, dear."

"Hello, sweetheart," he replied.

"Hi, Mom," Dillon interrupted, embracing her once she was done with his father.

After giving him a kiss on the cheek, she pulled back. "Well, you're becoming more like your father every day."

Without his shirt, they could see muscles developing on the child's body very well. Naturally, his physique paled in comparison to his father's, but he would eventually get there. The scars and burns from their job were very apparent, some more recent than others. They were lessons that were learned the hard way.

"Thanks, Mom." Then, he remembered the events from this morning. "Hey, did Kyler catch that corrupt officer?"

"I'll tell you about it during dinner," she promised, giving them stern looks. "And after you shower."

"After I read the guy's mind, I informed Kyler where he was going, and she sent me home," Dillon finished, taking another bite of the beef.

"Good, because if she took you to the arrest, I would have strangled her on the spot." Father and son knew that she wasn't kidding.

"...Well, I appreciate you letting me help her out," Dillon responded. "Felt going taking the bastard down."

"Hey, none of that language during dinner," Matthew warned. "You know the rules."

"Sorry."

Carolyn heaved a sigh as she placed her utensils down for the moment. "Dillon, your father and I are proud of you for helping Kyler out, but you're not going to be doing that again."

Dillon stopped eating, staring at her in shock. "What? But why?"

"Dillon, it's too risky," Matthew explained. "Forget the fact that Kyler could have figured you out. If the Military Police found out you were the snitch, it would only fuel the fire." A worrying thought occurred to him as he glanced over to his wife. "She doesn't suspect anything, does she?"

"When she questioned Trey, he denied ever saying where he was going. Fortunately, she played it off as him being a good liar. We're safe." Carolyn guaranteed.

"But you let me help Kyler," Dillon protested. "I did a good job. Besides, if something happens, Zackley can-"

"No." Matthew put his foot down, silencing all debate. "Darius is protecting us, but if we cross the line, that protection is gone. Drop the subject and eat your food. Now."

The boy looked away, his scowl all too apparent, but his parents were right. Even if they weren't, he didn't have a choice in the matter. So, he did what he was told as continued to munch on the beef

Carolyn decided to change the subject to ease the tension. "So… I hear you two are making a sword for the Reiss family."

Not wanting to ruin dinner with a sour mood, Matthew followed his mother's lead. "Yeah, we are. It could be the biggest payday we ever get. Dillon managed to get the hilt molded into the right shape all by himself."

Normally, Dillon would beam at the praise, especially from the tall order, but he couldn't stop thinking about what happened with Trey. For once, he was able to know the feeling his mother felt when she brought down a corrupt MP or noble after weeks of preparation and days of fighting in the courtroom. He did good, and he wanted to do more.

Carolyn easily picked up what he was thinking despite not having mental abilities. "Keep training with your father, and if he thinks you're prepared... I'll ask Kyler if you can help her out again."

Dillon's countenance brightened up considerably. Before he could gush out his thanks like a hose, there was a frantic banging on their door. Carefully, Matthew stood up approached the door, levitating a flintlock to his hand. Keeping it out of sight, he opened the door to see a young man carrying a stack of newspapers with a look of horror on his face.

"Kid, what's wrong?" Matthew questioned before getting a response he never imagined would happen.

"Wall Maria's been breached!" he shouted, throwing several papers at him before taking off. "The Titans have invaded!"

Matthew froze, horrified by the news. The Titans were one of the biggest reasons he and his wife moved to Wall Sina. To learn of them breaking in was unthinkable. How could that be possible if they weren't strong enough to get through the Walls before?

He stared down at the article, and the truth became clear. A Colossal Titan that was not only taller than any other Titan in existence but was taller than the Wall appeared and broke down Shiganshina's gate with a single kick. Shortly after that, an Armored Titan appeared that was immune to cannon fire and busted down the other gate, allowing the Titans to get in, roam Wall Maria's territory, and eat every human in sight.

"Matthew…" Carolyn whispered, holding his hand tightly. It was clear she was afraid like he was.

"They... they haven't gotten to Wall Rose yet," he said once he managed to find his voice.

Worst yet was Dillon's reaction. He was petrified with fear, imagining that any second, those horrible monsters he was told about would bust in any second. He could see it now: giant, humanoid beings with frozen smiles on their faces. Eating every screaming human in sight, they're mouths becoming drenched with blood. All efforts to run would be in vain as they were surrounded. Nothing could save them from—

"Dillon."

The boy recoiled, falling backwards onto the couch behind him, though his head hit the wall before he landed.

"Are you okay?" Carolyn asked, helping him up while checking the back of his head for injuries.

"They're coming, aren't they?" he said, looking at them, feeling like he was about to panic. "Are we gonna die?"

Shaking her head, his mother hugged him tightly. "It's going to be okay, Dillon. I promise."

Matthew just stared into the distance, seeing the Wall that loomed above them. He wondered if it was even possible to keep that promise anymore.

_"It was the first time I truly understood the threat of the Titans, creatures that defined fear. They don't hesitate, they don't feel, and they don't reason. All they do is eat every human in sight. And now, there were two Titans that could break down the Walls. It took me a month to figure out that we weren't going to die any second, but that terror still remained. I was thankful to have never met a Titan then, but in my dreams? They were always waiting for me._

_"Humanity's suffering, however, would get worse. A year later, the refugees from Wall Maria piled into Wall Rose, trying to survive in a new environment. Tension was rising, food was getting scarce thanks to the famine that hit, and the districts were getting too populated for them to handle. So, the government made a decision to fix those problems, a decision that changed my life…"_

Once again, Dillon found himself staring at the newspaper article, feeling nothing but anger and sadness. All those people sent out to "reclaim Wall Maria" were nothing more than sacrifices to the Titans. The government gave that order, and Dillon hated them for it. They weren't protecting the people; they were protecting themselves like they always did. Monsters on both sides, and there was no escape.

How he wished he could take the fight to the bastards in power. They didn't deserve it. All they did was step on the people they deemed were beneath them. Nothing would give Dillon more satisfaction than to vindicate all the victims, and end the government's corrupt ways once and for all. He had special powers, so why not use them to bring actual justice for a change? He scoffed at his childish dream. It could never be that simple. All he would get accomplished is a long and painful death, knowing that he would bring his parents down with him. He wasn't completely stupid. Still, it brought him no end of grief knowing that there was nothing he could do. Despite his power, he was trapped just like the rest of humanity.

But it didn't have to be that way. There was still a chance for him to do some good. It was risky with a high chance of getting killed, but he would have a better chance than anyone else.

Suddenly, a tapping at the door brought him out of thoughts. "Dillon? Can we come in?"

Recognizing his mother's voice, he put the article aside. "Yeah."

His parents entered his bedroom, carrying concerned expressions.

"Dillon, it's been four days," Carolyn said. "Please don't shut us out. We want to help you."

He found himself unable to talk as he stared down at the floor.

Matthew sighed, deciding to take the blunt approach. "Dillon, your mother and I know you're upset, and we don't blame for it, but there's nothing you can do about it. What's done is done. You have to move on."

Those statements sparked a fire within Dillon. "You're wrong."

His father didn't expect that. "What?"

"There is something I can do." Finding the strength within him, he locked eyes with them. "I'm going to enlist."

His parents looked at each other for a moment. They had a sinking feeling that this was the direction he would be heading in, and it wasn't easier hearing him say it. There were three factions he would be allowed to join and one of them took the fight straight to the Titans.

"Son, you need to think this over," Matthew urged. "Life as a soldier is drastically different from the life you're leading here. They will beat you to the ground."

"It's a small price to pay," he countered. "Besides, you've been training me since I was eight. I know what that's like."

"That's different, Dillon, and you know it."

"If you want to help people, there are better ways than becoming a soldier," Carolyn pointed out quickly. "Organizations that help the people from Wall Maria. You could do them a good service."

"That's not good enough, Mom!" he shot back.

"Then how about the fact we don't want to lose our only son!?" she demanded as she struggled to contain her emotions. "You have a wonderful gift, Dillon, but one mistake and you will die! I can't lose you!"

Her words impacted Dillon, his determination giving way to sorrow. "I… I didn't mean to hurt you. I don't want that. But..." He took a deep breath and began letting his frustration. "I can't pretend I didn't read the paper. I can't pretend I don't know what happened. I can't pretend that we're safe when those Titans are out there." He clenched his fist, anger expelling from his heart. "250,000 people are dead! Not just any people, but most of the Wall Maria refugees! Why did they have to be sacrificed!?"

"What would you rather, Dillon?" Matthew questioned calmly, giving him a pointed look. "For the government to send people from the Interior to die? Would it have been better if we died? Or maybe the corrupt Military Police? Maybe they should've sent all of them to their deaths because they deserve it."

Sufficiently cowed, Dillon tore her gaze away. "That's… that's not…"

He sighed, kneeling to his level. "Son, there's not a single decision in the world that would've made things better for anyone. Mass starvation or mass sacrifice. We both know what happened was wrong, and we can only guess the motives of the people in charge of that order... but losing twenty percent of our population was the lesser of the two evils."

"Your father's right," Carolyn added, getting her composure back. "Decisions aren't usual made with right and wrong in mind, especially in the military; they're made with what people deem to be logical and most important to them. It's called being pragmatic."

"Pragmatic," he repeated, testing the word out as he thought about the concept. He hated that the world was like this, forcing people to become bad to achieve something good.

"And those are the kinds of decisions that await you if you join the Scout Regiment after Training," Matthew finished.

Doubt gnawed at him as Dillon's tone got quiet. "I don't want to become a bad person, Dad."

Carolyn sat on the bed and wrapped her arm around his shoulder in an effort to comfort him. "Being pragmatic doesn't make you bad, Dillon. It hurts, but if you make a call like that, you're not evil. In the end, you just want to help as many people as you can. Does that sound like something a bad person would do?"

He shook his head slowly. "No."

"Then you won't be one. You have strong convictions, Dillon, and they're going to be tested, but your father and I believe in you. Even if you slip up, if you make mistakes, we'll never stop loving you. Do you trust us enough to do that?"

Dillon looked at his parents and gave a sincere nod. "Yes."

She kissed him on the forehead and embraced him, hoping that would help.

Then, Matthew spoke after mulling the decision over, making the hardest call he had ever made. "Dillon, I want you to wait a year. Four days after what happened is too soon to make a life-altering decision. If you still want to enlist, if you're willing to go through everything training throws at you, and you'll follow through with your decisions… then your mother and I will support you."

Carolyn was taken aback by that deal, and she gave her husband a look that promised a very long talk with him.

Dillon, however, took it to heart as he nodded in return. "Deal."

_"The days seemed to go at a snail's pace just to make the wait even longer. I still did my job, I fulfilled my obligations, but my heart wasn't completely in those things like it once was. My resolve to join the military got stronger with every day. Once the year had finally passed, I didn't even have to say anything for them to know my mind was made up. I was going to enlist."_

Dillon gulped as he stared at the carriage that would take him away to Training. He had been waiting so long for this, and now that the path was before him, taking the first step was much harder than he thought it would be. He looked back at her parents, who waited for him to depart. His mom was trying to keep it together and his father, despite him calm exterior, couldn't hide the sadness in his eyes.

Heaving a sigh, the teenager walked away from the carriage and gave his parents one last hug. "I'll come back," he promised. "Whatever happens out there, I'll come back."

"Don't forget to write," Carolyn urged, sniffing. "I want to make sure you're doing okay."

"Yes, ma'am." He looked at his dad. "I'll put our training to good use."

"I know you will," Matthew replied. "We love you so much."

"I love you, too."

With every ounce of effort, Dillon backed out of the hug. He ignored the voice in his mind telling him not to go, to stay with his family, but he refused to listen. It was time to go. He stepped inside the carriage, taking a seat as he stared at his parents. He gave one final wave which they returned as the driver pulled on the reins. He was on his way at last.

"All right, kid, this is your stop," the driver announced, bringing the carriage to a halt. "Not too late to turn back now."

"You seem a bit adamant in taking me back home," Dillon noted with a raised eyebrow.

"You're leaving the safety of your home to put your ass on the line against creatures that'll eat you without a second thought," the driver pointed out. "Forgive me if I'm a little concerned."

"I appreciate the concern, sir, but my mind's made up," he said, putting on his pack of necessary items. "We can't fight Titans if there's no one to fight them."

"Whatever you say, you idealistic brat..." the driver muttered. "Good luck out there."

"Thank you."

Once he stepped outside, Dillon gazed at his home for the next few years. So different from Yarckel. Instead of buildings clustered together, it was a large section of rocky terrain all around him with only a few buildings. He had never seen anything like it. For a moment, he wondered how humanity created this before realizing this was just the natural Earth his people had adopted. His regrets upon leaving home were fading.

One step took him further from his house. The second step took him further from his parents. The third step took him away from his former life. The fourth took him towards a new one.


	2. Sina Brat

## Chapter 2: Sina Brat

_"Keith Shadis. I'll never be able to forget that bald-headed, yellow-eyed, loud-mouthed bastard. He was one of the few people I have ever met that I respected and despised. It came with the territory since he was our drill instructor. There were days I wanted to break his jaw so I wouldn't have to hear his damn voice yelling in my ear, but self-control was one of the many tests I had to pass. He might've been an asshole, but he was one of the key people in my life that shaped me into who I am today. I owe him that much."_

"Straighten those spines, piss-ants!" the drill instructor shouted. "The 104th Cadet Corps Boot Camp starts now. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Commandant Keith Shadis and you _will_ grow to hate me. Training is gonna be a white-knuckle run through Hell. If I've done my job, you'll be waking up in a cold sweat from memories of this place every single night for the rest of your miserable lives. Right now, you're nothing. Livestock! But over the next three soul-crushing years, you'll learn to take down your own goliath. Remember this moment when you come face to face with him, 'cause here's where you ask yourself: am I a fighter, or am I feed? Am I gonna be ground up to human, pulpy crisp between boulder-sized incisors, or am I gonna be the one to bite?"

Dillon had to hand it to him; Shadis knew how to simultaneously make them feel terrified of their future and pumped up for it. In his case, the blacksmith could only hope he was strong enough when the time came to kill the Titans. Otherwise... best not to think of the alternative.

"Hey, Mop Top!" Shadis exclaimed, looking directly at a blond-haired, blue-eyed boy that Dillon thought was a girl at first.

"Sir!" he replied, saluting.

"What do they call you, maggot?"

"Armin Arlert from Shiganshina, sir," he answered.

"Seriously?" Shadis asked, feigning wonder. "Why would your parents curse you with that ridiculous name?"

"It was my grandfather, sir."

The drill instructor leaned in, not granting the boy personal space. "Cadet Arlert, why is a runt like you here?"

Armin's voice started cracking, terrified, and even closed his eyes. "To help humanity defeat the Titans!"

"That is delightful to hear," Shadis replied, not at all delighted. "You're gonna be a great light snack for them." Grabbing Armin by the head, he forcefully turned him around. "Row 3, about face, runt."

He moved on to the next victim—uh, cadet, who had short blond hair and brown eyes. "What do you call yourself?"

"Sir, my name is Thomas Wagner. I'm from the Trost District."

"I can't hear you!" At the volume the man was speaking, it was unlikely the nearby cadets would hear ever again.

"I'm from Trost, sir!" he repeated, louder. "I want to—"

"Nobody here gives a damn. Next!" Shadis interrupted, quickly moving on to another cadet, this one being a black-haired, gray-eyed girl. "You!"

"Sir, Mina Carolina from Karanes," she quickly introduced.

"Is a pathetic worm like you the best Karanes has to offer!?" he roared.

Like Armin, she, too, closed her eyes in fear. "Sir, I'm afraid that's the case, sir."

"Tell your district they can burn in Hell for sending you here," the drill instructor ordered.

"Yes, sir," Mina replied.

"You."

 _Crap, he noticed me._ Dillon realized as the yellow-eyed terror approached him.

"Who the hell are you?" Shadis demanded.

Saluting, he responded, "Dillon Amsdale from Yarckel, sir."

"Yarckel? Step forward, Amsdale!"

He followed orders without hesitation, though he had a sinking feeling regarding the man's intentions.

"Take a good look, maggots," Shadis said in a patronizing tone. "A Sina brat has decided to grace us with his presence today. You should all feel honored. Tell me, Sina Brat, how many times a day do you ask your servants to bend over and lick your shoes?"

"I never had servants, sir," Dillon assured, starting to really hate this guy.

He leaned into his face, spit flying out of his mouth as he spoke. "Are you suggesting that I am wrong, pretty boy?"

"Yes, sir!" It was automatic, a slip of the tongue at the absolute worst moment. No one envied being in his shoes. _Well, he's gonna kill me now._

Shadis's glare made his soul want to flee his body. "Then bend over lick my shoes, Sina Brat!"

"Yes, sir!"

Dillon got down on his knees and lowered his face to his shoe, hoping that all he would taste was dirt and whatever the shoe was made of. Instead, Shadis kicked his foot right into his face, sending him backwards. He landed on his back with blood pouring from his now-broken and bent-upwards nose, crying out in pain.

"Keep your filthy tongue away from me," Shadis demanded. "On your feet!"

Despite seeing spots, Dillon did as he said, covering his bleeding nose with his hands in an attempt to stop said bleeding.

"Remove your hands, Sina Brat."

Reluctantly, Dillon uncovered his nose, presenting the first of what would be many injuries he would receive while he was here. With the gentleness of a hammer to the face, Shadis gripped his nose and set it back straight. Dillon couldn't help but yell in response again, but at least that solved one problem with his nose. Now he just had to get it looked at by an actual doctor.

"Get back in line. Row 4, about face!"

Or he could continue bleeding and let the wound simmer. That worked too. At least he could still breathe, though the spots continued to cloud his vision.

Once Row 4 turned around, Shadis came face to face with a brown-haired male with equally brown eyes. "What do we have here?"

"Jean Kirstein, sir, from the Trost District," he said, saluting.

"And why are you here, Cadet?"

Relaxing a bit, he answered, "To join the Military Police, sir, the best of the best."

Dillon visibly winced at that remark. If "the best of the best" was anything like the officers he had encountered in the past, this Jean guy would end up becoming his mother's target in a few years.

Shadis took this in stride. "That's nice. You wanna live in the Interior, do you?"

"Yes." Immediately, Jean was head-butted by him, crumbling to the ground and holding his head.

"No one told you to sit, recruit!" Shadis shouted. "If you can't handle this, Kirstein, then forget about joining the Military Police!"

 _At least he didn't break your nose,_ Dillon thought to himself as Shadis moved on.

"What the hell is wrong with your face, you smiling idiot?" Shadis questioned a black-haired male with freckles.

"Marco Bodt, at your service, sir, from Jinae, south side of Wall Rose," he replied in one breath. "I am to join the Military Police and give life and limb in service to the king."

Shadis knew just how to respond to that statement, lowering the volume of his voice into a creepy whisper. "Well then, that makes you an idealistic fool… and a rube. You want the truth?" Marco gulped uncomfortably when Shadis leaned in with a deadly stare. "The only use the king has for your life and limbs are as Titan fodder."

 _Couldn't have said it better myself,_ Dillon thought grimly.

With the cadet frozen in a state of shock, the drill instructor moved on to a bald-headed male that was one of the shortest people in the Corps. "Hey, Cue Ball, you're up next."

"Uh, me?" Quickly composing himself, he saluted… on the wrong side of his chest. "Sir, Connie Springer from Ragako Village, sir."

Enraged, Shadis grabbed the boy by the head and lifted him off the ground, pressing his fingers into his skull. "You have it backwards, Connie Springer. That was the first thing you were taught. This salute represents the resolve in your heart to fight those bent on the systematic destruction of our people. Is your heart on your right side!?"

**CRUNCH!!**

It was like the entire world just froze for two seconds. Standing nearby, as if nothing important was happening, was a girl with reddish brown hair eating a potato… in the middle of formation.

Completely flabbergasted, the drill instructor dropped Connie, who was on the verge of passing out. "Hey, you there. What do you think you're doing?"

The girl did not give any indication that she heard him and took another bite out of the potato.

Shadis took it well. "YOU ARE OFFICIALLY ON MY SHIT LIST! JUST WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?"

Mortified, the girl quickly swallowed her bite and saluted, potato still in hand. "Sasha Braus from Dauper Village at your service! Reporting for duty, sir!"

"Sasha Braus, huh?" he repeated, glaring down at her. "What is that you're clutching in your right hand?"

"A steamed potato," she answered. "It sat there in the mess hall begging to be eaten, sir."

For the first time today, the drill instructor seemed like he was trying to restrain himself. "The theft I understand, but here? Why eat it here of all places?"

Sasha wasn't taking the hint. "It looked quite delicious, and it was getting cold, so I gave it shelter in my stomach, sir."

His voice dropped so low that the other recruits had to strain their ears to hear him. "Why? I can't comprehend. Why would you eat that potato?"

Now, she was confused. "Are you… asking me why people eat potatoes. I'm surprised you don't know, sir."

The temperature seemed to drop 50 degrees as the cadets stared at her in utter horror. Was she trying to get herself murdered on the first day? Surprisingly, Shadis didn't immediately rip her to shreds and just stood there, silent. Some of them wondered if he was contemplating how he was going to kill her and get away with it. Others thought the girl managed to break his mind with her words.

Sasha was getting uncomfortable by the sudden silence and tried to rectify things. She broke the potato in half, though one was bigger than the other, and held out the smaller half to him. "Here, sir. Have half."

Slowly, Shadis took the piece as if it was the nicest thing someone had ever done for him. "Have half? Really?"

The girl smiled as if she did a great deed, and that was the last straw.

Roughly, Shadis grabbed her by collar, making her drop the rest of the potato in surprise. After tossing his half of it aside, he spoke in the deadliest whisper he could manage. "Listen to me very carefully, you little bitch. The minute I drop you, you will start running around the base and you will not stop until you pass out." His voice started to escalate quickly. "For the next five days, your meal privileges will only consist of one meal, and if you ever eat in formation again…" He picked up the big half of the potato and crushed it right in front of her eyes. "That will be your skull! Do I make myself clear, Maggot!?"

"Y-Yes, sir," Sasha stuttered, properly terrified.

"Get moving!" he ordered, dropping her.

Once she was running as if Titans were coming after her, Shadis had one more loose end to tie up. "Sina Brat!"

"Yes, sir!" Dillon replied, flinching.

"Fall out to the infirmary," he commanded.

"Thank you, sir." _Oh, so he_ does _care about my well-being._

"The rest of you, on the ground! Push-ups!"

Dillon could not believe how lucky he was. The fracture was in just the right spot so that it wouldn't cause him to stop breathing. For a cadet to die on the first day would be embarrassing, to say the least. It took a while for the bleeding to stop and the swelling to go down a bit, but the doctor was finally able to patch up Dillon's nose. Unfortunately, it was going to leave him with a feeling of lightheadedness and a stopped-up nose for a while.

"So, how do you feel, Cadet?" the doctor questioned once the bandages were applied.

"Like I got hit in the face with a stone," Dillon answered in a very nasally voice.

He shook his head, bemused. "Well, you're not the first person Shadis has sent to the infirmary, and you won't be the last."

"If his prejudice is anything to go by, I might win the record for how many times he sends me here," Dillon mumbled resentfully.

The doctor just stared at him. "You really think he did it because he's out for your blood?"

"I followed his orders, and he kicked me in the face."

"I think you're taking this a little too personally."

Dillon raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Shadis almost sent me away in a casket and you think I have the problem?"

"He knew what he was doing," the doctor told him. "The fracture was in just the right spot. You weren't in any danger of dying, though perhaps I could've worded my diagnosis differently." He sighed. "Cadet, I'm going to level with you: we don't get many people from Wall Sina here. You're one of the rare ones."

"I know. People my age are either working, rich brats, or whatever the hell people my age do," Dillon said. "Hell if I know, and I really don't care."

"Well, let me put things in perspective. Half of these cadets are from Wall Rose, and the other half came from Wall Maria. What do you think their initial reaction will be to a guy from the Interior?"

Dillon paused as he thought it over. He never gave any consideration how his status would make him stand out in the eyes of his comrades. "So, Shadis had me go through all that for my benefit?"

The doctor shrugged slightly. "Possibly. If you acted like a spoiled kid, you'd probably be in here with a cracked skull."

Dillon grimaced at the thought. "Terrific."

"Just follow orders and don't act like an actual Sina Brat and you'll be fine. The ones who can't take a hint get washed out fast, so don't give Shadis more reason to beat you until his hand is soaked with your blood."

Wide, brown eyes met the doctor's. "What the hell kind of doctor are you?"

"The kind who's keeping you from doing anything draining for a while like say… doing drills?" He threw him a smirk.

"Well, in that case, keep talking."

He chuckled. "Sorry, Cadet, but I've kept you long enough. The dizziness and the lightheadedness should have receded by now. Try not to strain yourself too badly and don't purposefully strain yourself to get out of drills. If you do, I've got some body bags that need filling."

Suddenly, Dillon valued his health more than anything in the world.

True to his word, Shadis put the recruits through rigorous training. 50 push-ups here, 50 crunches there, and jumping jacks that never seem to end. Anytime someone collapsed or was too slow, the gentle tones of the drill instructor were enough to get them back to exercising. Naturally, one of those exercises included running laps around the base ten times. Poor Sasha had to dodge the recruits when they caught up with her every single time. Halfway through, Dillon returned and ran the rest of the laps and exercises with them. He stumbled a bit due to his injuries, but he continued to press on. To his surprise, he wasn't called out on it. A few hours later, the sun was finally setting. The cadets, exhausted and beat, were dismissed at last. Shadis, briefly, summoned Dillon to his office for the medical report. Stiff as a board, he relayed the information to the commandant and was told to pace himself before getting dismissed. Closest to an apology he was going to get.

Once he was free, the first stop Dillon wanted to make was to the mess hall. He was starving beyond belief. Hopefully, the other cadets didn't eat all the food before he got there. Once he located the building, he spotted the familiar faces of Connie, Marco, Mina, and Armin standing outside, relaxing from today's activities. The one person he didn't recognize was a green-eyed boy, who seemed to find the sunset very captivating.

"Well, looks who's here," Connie greeted with a grin. "The Sina Brat himself."

Dillon could tell the boy meant it in jest… he hoped, and said, "Just call me Dillon."

Connie couldn't help but snicker at how bad Dillon's voice sounded.

"I didn't expect for you to get hurt like that today," Mina mentioned, glowering at Connie for his insensitivity.

Dillon shrugged. "Well, he wanted to break me down and started with my nose. It was just bad luck for him I had to get it patched up before it got worse." He decided to introduce himself to the one person he didn't know, holding out his hand. "Dillon Amsdale. You?"

"Eren Yeager," he answered cautiously, shaking his hand.

"So, what's it like living in the Interior?" Armin asked.

"Lots of noise," he replied. "I worked as a blacksmith in Yarckel with my dad. Hammering here, fires there, had to get used to the environment quickly. If I couldn't concentrate on what I was doing, I got hurt."

"Sounds dangerous," Marco observed.

Dillon nodded. "It always is even when you know what you're doing." He spotted Sasha continuing to run and changed the subject. "So, Potato Girl's still running?"

"I thought Shadis was going to kill her," Connie commented.

"I know," Eren added. "One hell of a first day." He chuckled. "It's funny. Being told to run until she passed out didn't seem to bother her nearly as much as being told her meals were being dropped to one per day for the next five."

Dillon instinctively snorted and his nose flared up like someone lit a fire within. "Shit!" he exclaimed, clutching it.

"Dillon, what's wrong?" Mina moved next to him in case he needed help.

"Stupid nose. I'm fine," Dillon groaned, frustrated. He could only hope Shadis would have a terrible accident before the three years were up.

Mina and the other cadets weren't convinced, but they didn't press the issue.

The only one who didn't seem concerned was Eren, who simply rolled his eyes at his antics. However, he spotted something in the distance. "Hey, what's that?"

The group looked where he was pointing at and saw a horse dragging a cart of trainees away from the compound.

"They're dropouts," Mina explained sadly. "They prefer to work in the fields."

Marco was confused. "But… it's only the first day."

Dillon could understand why they left. "Not everyone can be a soldier. Shadis put us through one hell of a workout today."

Eren stared at the dropouts with disgust. "I can't believe anyone would rather pull plants than fight."

The blacksmith turned to him with annoyance. "Those plant pullers help feed people, Eren. They may not be in the front lines, but they are doing a good service to humanity."

The green-eyed boy glared back at him. "And I bet you've enjoyed a good meal in the Interior because of them, haven't you, Dillon?"

Like the doctor predicted, this was happening. Most of these trainees were orphans due to the Titans or some other tragedy. They'd experienced homelessness, starvation, and wondering how they were going to make it to the next day. He, on the other hand, had a secure roof over his head, a job that paid well, delicious meals, and a family that loved him. He could sympathize with these kids, but unless he experienced half of what they did, he could never fully understand it. Whether he liked it or not, Dillon was going to earn the ire of some of these cadets just for being here.

That being said, Eren's statement was still stupid beyond belief. Fortunately, someone else called him out on it before he did.

"His point still stands, Eren," Mina pointed out. "Maybe they aren't killing Titans, but they are still going to be providing a valuable service."

Eren didn't look convinced, but to his credit, he chose not to say anything in response.

Marco decided to intervene before things escalated. "I know about some of us, but you never mentioned where you were from, Eren."

"The same as Armin," he answered, putting on hand on the blond boy's shoulder. "From Shiganshina."

Dillon's eyes widened in horror. "Shiganshina? That means-."

"You were there that day," Connie finished, less shocked and more…excited.

"Quiet!" Marco warned, realizing what he was about to say.

Connie didn't heed his advice. "The Colossal One. Did you see him?"

Eren didn't look insulted by his lack of tact, but his voice grew darker as memories surfaced from that day. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

Before anyone could stop him, Connie ran inside the mess hall, dragging Eren along for the ride, and announced, "Hey, guys! This is Eren. He was in Shiganshina that day. He saw the Colossal Titan!"

Like vultures swooping in on a carcass, a crowd of cadets gathered around Eren, asking him over and over again if what Connie said was true, if he really was there when Wall Maria fell. At least they gave Dillon space so he could get his food. Some sort of messy soup and bread. Even though his nose was still healing, he could get a whiff of the meal that sat before him. Bread was definitely overcooked, and the soup was just mush with liquid flavor. Reminded him of the first time he tried cooking.

Once he filled up his tray, Dillon scouted around for a place to sit. He noticed an empty spot next to that Jean guy from earlier (the bruise on his forehead was a dead giveaway), and asked, "Mind if I sit here?"

"Go ahead," he answered, making a little room for him.

"Jean, right?"

He confirmed it with a nod and shook his hand. "And you're Dillon. Good to meet you. How's your nose?"

Dillon brushed his fingers against it, sensitive to the touch. "Still swollen and a little fractured, but it'll heal. Shadis really had it out for me today."

"I guess I should be thankful I only got bruised," Jean commented, indicating his own present from their drill instructor.

Dillon raised his mug of water. "Here's to our first of many battle wounds."

Chuckling, Jean toasted him, downing whatever was left in the mug. "So, you said you're from Yarckel, huh?"

"Uh-huh," he confirmed, knowing what was on his mind. "Don't bother asking me if I have connections to the Military Police, Jean. My family and the Police are not on good terms."

That piqued his interest. "What happened?"

"My mother is the reason several corrupt officers are rotting in jail," he explained, eating some of the soup he got. His face contorted with disgust. "Ugh! What the hell is crap?"

"Apparently, it's supposed to be food," Jean snarked, shuddering from the taste. "Blech! My mother can cook better than this."

Dillon would've attempted to use the slop as an allegory for what the MPs were like, but a certain someone's voice caught his attention.

"Yeah, okay? I saw the big guy," Eren confirmed, sounding exasperated.

"Whoa, seriously?" Thomas asked as if he hadn't said it the first two times.

One guy, Samuel, wanted details. "Okay, exactly how tall was he?"

"He stuck his head over the outer wall," he explained.

The comments started flying.

"Whoa, wait! I heard he stepped over the wall completely."

"So did I."

"That was the rumor in my village too."

 _If that happened, we'd be dead,_ Dillon thought to himself.

"He was big, but not that big," Eren corrected.

"So what did it look like?" Mina dared to ask.

"It had a mouth like a corpse," he described. "And no skin. Just muscles."

"And the Armored Titan?" another cadet questioned. "The one that broke through Wall Maria?"

Eren didn't seem impressed. "Is that what they're calling it? In all the panic, it was just another Titan to me."

Samuel was flabbergasted like everyone else. "No way. So, what were they like?"

Eren stopped eating, gasping as the memories of that horrible day hit him. Dropping, his spoon, he put his hand over his mouth, sounding like he was about to vomit. Dillon looked around for a bucket, or something like that in case the poor kid needed to let it out.

Marco finally had the decency to put an end to it. "Come on. That's enough questions, all right? I'm sure he'd rather not relive everything he went through."

 _A voice of reason at last,_ Dillon thought, relieved.

"We're sorry," Connie apologized, feeling ashamed for putting Eren through all that just to satisfy his own curiosity. "We didn't mean to—"

"It's not like that," Eren assured, composing himself and taking a bite of bread. "Those stupid Titans. They're really not that big a deal."

 _Congratulations, Eren,_ Dillon thought, clenching his fists. It took all of his self-control not to tear him a new one. _Not only did you just spit in the face of everyone who's been killed by those monsters, but you also just made number 2 on the "people I_ really _don't like" list._

Eren wasn't done. "If we focus on mastering the Omni Dimensional Maneuver Gear they give us, then it's Titan payback time. I've waited years to be trained as a soldier. All of a sudden, the reality's sinking in. I'm joining the Scout Regiment, then I'll send the Titans back to Hell. I'm gonna butcher them all."

Eren's demeanor had completely changed from a monotone voice to a bit unhinged. Dillon couldn't blame him, given all the hell he went through that day, but it was a little unnerving.

"Hey, are you crazy or something?"

The attention was on Jean now, who was smirking at Eren's tirade. "Not that it's my business but signing up for Reconnaissance is like a death sentence."

Eren eyed him carefully. "I guess we'll see. Or, at least, I will. You seem content hiding in the Interior with the MPs."

Dillon couldn't help but respond to that. "And you seem content to insult anybody who chooses to be an MP."

The green-eyed boy scoffed at him. "Being part of the Military Police is a nice way of saying, 'you get a chance to hide and be safe while everyone else gets to die.'"

"Not everyone has the guts to throw their lives into certain-death territory," he reminded Eren, getting really sick of his attitude. "You have to deal with the fact that some people just want to survive."

"The only way we survive is if we beat the Titans!" Eren exclaimed angrily. "Why can't you people see it?" He glared at him. "Then again, why should I expect someone from the Interior to understand what we've been through?"

Dillon sighed, standing up. Quickly, Eren got to his feet, prepared to fight if he needed to despite Dillon having a couple of inches above him. A hush fell over the mess hall, the cadets watching the scene unfold. Out of the corner of his eye, the blacksmith noticed a black-haired, Asian girl giving him a look that said, "touch him and I will kill you." Dillon, however, refused to stoop that low and asked a simple question. "Eren, why do you think I'm here?"

That question caught him off-guard. "Uh…"

"Let me elaborate. I had a home in the Yarckel District. I had a roof over head, a loving family, warm meals, you name it, I probably had it. So why would I leave a life of luxury and choose to suffer for the next three years?"

Before Eren could attempt to answer, the bell rang, signaling the time for them all to disperse to their barracks.

"You've got three years to come up with an answer," Dillon said, "but I think you're smart enough to figure it out sooner."

Finishing up his food, the blacksmith made his way to the barracks. He was more tired than he thought and wanted nothing more than to get some sleep. It was going to be a long three years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Before anyone asks, yes, I am using the English Dub for this story. 
> 
> Anyways, I will be the first to admit that I really don't like Eren... at least, in Season 1. You can probably see my bias shining through in Dillon's internal thoughts. Look, I understand that what he went through was something no one should have ever experienced, but his constant yelling and confrontational attitude makes him extremely grating in both Japanese and English. And then there's his edgy tone. I have a huge amount of respect for Bryce Papenbrook, but... I'm sorry. I can't take Eren seriously when he's acting edgy. There are a lot more problems I have with Eren Yeager outside of those things, but we'll get to them later.
> 
> As for Jean, yes, he is a prick in the beginning, but he's one of the few people that actually goes through character development in the first season. I really like him as a character. Not really much to say about him other than that I understand why he wants to avoid the Titans and why he would consider Eren a nuisance.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I look forward to your comments, please consider adding to the TV Tropes page, and I'll see you all in the next one.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: The beginning of this story was arguably one of my biggest challenges. In an old version I have on Fanfiction, I made the entire chapter a journal entry, breaking one of the most important rules of storytelling in a dramatic way: show, don't tell. Establishing the Amsdale family was top priority, and my hope is that I did it right. 
> 
> BTW, here's the picture of [Dillon Amsdale.](https://www.deviantart.com/schleeshins/art/Dillon-Amsdale-Anime-Guide-Page-711331350)
> 
> The location was planned from the start. Most stories I read within this particular fandom usually had the OCs live in Wall Maria or Rose. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but I wanted to do something different from the norm. And while many OCs are Titan Shifters, I decided to give my character psychic powers. Yes, I went the Stephen King route, but unlike Stephen King, there is going to be an explanation. Just bear with me until I get there.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I look forward to your comments, and I'll see you all in the next one.


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